Traitor
by alyssajoy64
Summary: 'Ben slammed his hand on the table. "You look at me when I'm talking to you, Alex! You look me in the eye and face me like the man I thought you to be!"'
1. Chapter 1

**A quite random and angsty one-shot for my favorite readers! I have to say, it wasn't very nice to me. It stole my sleep until I wrote it. **

**I don't own Alex Rider and thanks to Pygmymeese for her wonderful betaing!**

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><p>"You know, I can't believe you, Alex." Ben said, fingers tightening around the coffee mug in his hand. "I stood up for you! Sanders wanted you taken off the team, but I petitioned against it. I said that you were an asset to the group and there was no way in hell that you would have ever done what Garrison accused you of. But then you go and do this!"<p>

Alex glared at the black lacquer on the table in front of him, the only furnishing in the white room other than the chair he was sitting in. He had been in this room once before, two years ago when he had quite unsuccessfully tried to kill Mrs. Jones. "I never asked for you to defend me, Ben," he said quietly.

Ben set his mug down on the table. Hard. "Asked me to defend you? You're my partner, Alex. That's what partners _do._ And now I find that you have some side job with as free-lance assassin?" The teen stayed silent, and Ben sighed, shoulders slumping in frustration and misery. "Just tell me why, Alex. Why would you do it? Was it because they could pay you more than-"

"No!" Alex jerked upright in his chair, the chains on the handcuffs clanging loudly against the metal seat. "It was never about the money!" His eyes blazed with unadulterated fury. "It was about respect."

There was a moment of echoing silence in the small interrogation room.

Alex leaned back in his seat, a small, unhappy smile making its way on his lips as he studied his former partner. "Do you know what it is that attracts people to the criminal underworld, Ben?" His pale fingers fiddled with the sleeve of his red jumper. The jumper he'd been arrested in that day, two blocks away from the house of a prominent attorney who had been found dead in his home. One quick shot to the head, between the eyes. Cold, calculating, and impersonal.

Ben found himself mesmerized by the casualness of the movement until he was jerked back by Alex's voice.

"It's the fact that they don't care. They don't care about your age or your appearance. Family and personal history mean nothing to them. All they care about is your track record. It's a matter of whether you can get the job done and done well. Those who can are given what they deserve."

Ben gave a humorless chuckle. "So you did it because you wanted to feel important."

"Wrong again, Ben," he snapped, flashes of frustration evident in his eyes.

"So explain it to me."

Alex looked him up and down, before giving the man an acidic smile. "Someone like you could never understand."

"And that's where _you're_ wrong, Alex." Ben planted his hands firmly on the table, looking him directly in the eye. "I understand. I understand that you're no different than those self-serving, power-hungry cowards we give our lives to protect our people from."

Alex rolled his eyes and looked away. Ben slammed his hand on the table. "You look at me when I'm talking to you, Alex! You look me in the eye and face me like the man I thought you to be!"

Alex slowly, condescendingly, turned his head back, his brown eyes mocking as they met Ben's green ones. "A man, Ben? No," he chuckled, "I'm just a kid. That's what makes me so good after all, isn't it? Because no one in their right mind would suspect the government of using and abusing a minor." He leaned back forward onto the table, getting but a few inches from Ben's face. A smirk stole across his features. "I am _no one's_ dirty little secret."

They stayed like that, staring each other down, until Ben finally broke away. The man stood up, his eyes never straying from the teen in front of him. "You're right, Alex. You are just a kid." A small smile of triumph seemed to flit across the boy's features, but it disappeared again with Ben's next words. "I knew a kid once. I met him at an SAS training camp when I first joined. We all thought he was a waste of time – a joke – and gave him hell for it, but he pushed through. That kid took everything that was thrown at him, turned it around, and used it to grow stronger. That kid was one of the best agents and one of the greatest friends I have ever known. I _respected_ that kid." Ben paused, his features hardening as he looked at his former partner. "And you are nothing like him. As far as I'm concerned, Alex Rider died this morning. You're nothing more than a stranger to me."

The mockery had vanished from the teen's face, replaced with a cold mask of indifference. With one last look, Ben shook his head in disgust and headed toward the door. He paused only briefly when the boy spoke up again, not even bothering to turn around.

"No, Ben. Alex Rider died three months ago. You just never noticed."

Ben closed his eyes, jaw clenching, before opening them again in determination. He pounded on the metal door, stepping aside so the guard could open it.

Outside stood Mrs. Jones and John Crawley. He gave them only the briefest of nods as he passed by.

As they entered the interrogation room, door slamming shut behind them, Ben kept on down the hall. He had no business here anymore. He had only come to confirm.

Alex Rider was truly dead.

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><p><strong>Please drop me a line and let me know your thoughts!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

_**I said I wouldn't continue, but I did. **_

_**Enjoy the next chapter in the now multi-shot story, "Traitor," and t**__**hank you to all of you who reviewed! I blame this all on you. ;)**_

**_Thanks pygmymeese for betaing, and as always, I don't own Alex Rider. _**

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><p>When the phone rings at three in the morning, it's never a good sign.<p>

For an MI6 agent, however, it's a usual occurrence. That's why when Ben Daniels rolled over and glanced at the glowing red letters of his alarm clock that displayed some ungodly hour, he only felt a flicker of annoyance.

"Can't even get a bloody night's sleep..." Ben growled, collapsing back into his pillow before blindly groping for the buzzing phone on his nightstand. "Daniels," he said, moving his head just enough so that his voice wasn't muffled.

"He's escaped," came the cold, feminine voice from the other end.

Ben stilled. Ice flowed down his spine and settled into a solid cube in the pit of his stomach, completely erasing any feelings of sleepiness. "How?" he asked, sliding out of bed and reaching for the first pair of jeans he could find.

"We're not sure. He must have had an insider."

He swore violently, forgetting, or perhaps not even caring, that his boss was on the other line. "I'll be there in twelve," he said, snapping the phone shut.

Ben stood for a moment in the darkness of his room, one hand fisted tightly in his dark, sleep-tousled hair, the other hung by his side, clenching the cell phone.

There was only one way that this could end. MI6 didn't give second chances.

With a roar of frustration, he flung the cell phone across the room, not even flinching as it hit the wall and smashed into pieces. He closed his eyes, his hand sliding down over his face. "Dammit, Alex," he whispered. With a sigh he pulled a black t-shirt from his drawer and slid it over his head, pausing only to grab his gun and his jacket before he left, door slamming with a resounding crack behind him.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

A wearied-eyed Mrs. Jones met him in the lower conference room. Her usual impeccable appearance was absent, replaced by a messy bun and blotchy skin that was much more evident without any makeup. Wordlessly, she handed him a manila folder which Ben flipped open and began to scan.

"We're putting together a retrieval team?" he asked, the question begging for affirmation.

There was no response.

Ben lifted his head to see Mrs. Jones' hands clenching the back of the chair in front of her, and he felt a surge of anger. "You can't do this. Not after what you've done," he said, only vaguely aware of the dangerous level of venom that was creeping into his voice. "You made him into this, and you sure as hell better take responsibility for it!"

"I would remind you of whom you're talking to, Agent Daniels," Mrs. Jones said, leveling her cold gaze on him. "I am the one who decides whether you're involved in this operation or not." Ben snapped his mouth shut, pressing his lips into a thin line to hold his tongue. He couldn't quite smother the mutinous look from his eyes, though. Mrs. Jones gave a small sigh, her expression softening minutely. "Look, Daniels," she said, "I understand. What Blunt did...what I did...was wrong."

"You're about four years late if that was an apolo-" Ben trailed off under the withering glare he received. "Sorry, ma'am," he muttered, looking away.

Mrs. Jones studied him a moment longer before continuing. "We've confirmed that Alex is hiding out in a group of warehouses just south of here, probably waiting for a contact to come pick him up. You and your team are to flush him out. They've been instructed to stay back until you've had a chance to go in first." Ben's head whipped up, surprise flickering across his face while Jones continued. "Alex has become too much of a liability, and the Prime Minister has been pushing me to tie up the loose ends. You have one chance, Agent Daniels, to talk him down. That's the most I can give you. Don't waste it."

"Yes, ma'am," Ben said, snapping the file shut and starting towards the door.

"Agent Daniels?" he stopped, turning back towards his boss. Their eyes locked, a silent message passing between them. "Good luck," she said quietly.

He gave her a brief nod before turning back, steps quickening in determination.

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><p><strong><em>Please take a moment to review!<em>**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Wow. Thank you so much for showing your support in my continuing this! I hope you enjoy the next chapter!_**

**_Pygmymeese, you're an amazing beta, and Mr. Horowitz, thanks for letting me use your characters. _**

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><p>Ben's overwhelming preoccupation with the current events came to a sudden halt as he entered the equipment room and found three familiar faces staring back at him. Well, semi-familiar. The K-Unit in front of him seemed like a different unit than Ben had trained with three years ago at Brecon Beacons. This K-Unit was hardened and battle weary after two tours in Afghanistan, after seeing more horrors and experiencing more grief than the human mind was designed to handle. In that moment, taking in the weariness in their eyes, Ben thought that perhaps he had taken the easier route by joining MI6. The life of a spy was a tough one–especially when he had Alex as a partner–but then again he had never had to bury a comrade during battle, either.<p>

Their reunion was an awkward one, stuck somewhere in the no man's land between familiarity and formality. Snake quietly introduced Seal, the soldier who had replaced him, while Wolf gauged him from where he was checking the straps of his ankle holster, one foot resting on one of the concrete benches. Eagle was by far the friendliest of the four, though Ben remembered from training that he had always been that way, and offered him a firm handshake.

"I suppose you've been briefed, then?" Ben asked, turning away and grabbing a Kevlar vest from the locker. He pulled it over his head, momentarily blocking his sight. By the time he turned around again, the dynamic of the room had changed drastically. No longer were they acquaintances meeting again under somewhat uncomfortable circumstances, rather professionals that had been brought together for a common goal because they were deemed the best resources available to achieve it.

Wolf had subtly moved forward to the front of his unit, while the others stood behind him. The energy that moved between the four men was incredible yet alarming. They gave off the air of an incredibly dangerous machine, one that moved with the ease and fluidity that only came from years of living and working together.

"Yeah. We're your backup while you try to talk the target down, and when that fails, we go in and clean up," Wolf said, lips pulling back into a predatory smile.

Ben's fists clenched around the Kevlar's straps, but he pushed his anger down. He took a breath and finished velcroing the vest on. "You were given the profile of the target?" He asked casually, now turning towards the holsters.

"We were told that you would give us the details."

This gave Ben pause for a moment. Perhaps Jones really hated him that much, he thought with a sigh. "The target is Alex Rider, my former partner," he said, setting the holster he had chosen down on the bench and picking up the file Jones had given him. Inside was a large printout of the picture that had been taken for Alex's government ID. Ben slid it out. "You might recognize him," he said, handing it over, a little reluctantly, to Wolf.

Wolf's forehead furrowed, the only outward sign of surprise he let slip through stony facade. "So the rumors are true," he said quietly, passing the photo to Eagle.

"What rumors?" Ben watched as Eagle frowned at the photo before he handed it on to Seal. The man's eyebrows rose and he gave a small shake of his head before passing the picture to Snake.

"There's been talk the last few years that government was using a minor for some of their dirty work." Wolf took the photo back from Snake, whose lips were pursed into a tight line, and looked down at it again. "I was hoping it wasn't true, especially because I knew it would probably be Cub."

It was Ben's turn to frown. "How did you know that it would probably be Cub?"

Wolf shrugged and returned the photo to him. "We were sent to rescue a bunch of kids in France a few years back. Cub was the one who showed us the way in. He was good at what he did."

"Yeah, he was," Ben said a little ruefully. He slid the photo back into the folder, but not before the solemn, brown eyes in it seemed to catch his. It was like looking at a completely different person – or perhaps a Jekyll and Hyde of sorts. The photo had been taken when Alex was fifteen, when he still had a look of purpose and determination. Before he became a hardened, cynical killer. "Maybe a bit too good."

He dropped the manila folder on the concrete bench behind him and sat down next to it. He always felt like he was choking when he tried to talk about Alex's betrayal. Maybe it was the grief from the death of a friend, or maybe it was just pure, unadulterated bitterness.

"They've linked him to at least eleven different murders within the last seven months, including a philanthropist in Sweden and a Russian judge," he said quietly. "I didn't want to believe them, but when they showed me the evidence..." He paused, not quite sure how to continue. Should he make excuses for him? Perhaps he could blame it on MI6 and the effect that their abuse had on the psyche of child. He could claim that Alex was just a broken soul who needed a lot of help; just stick him in a secure facility and put him through years of therapy and maybe he'd come out alright.

But it wasn't the truth.

The moment he had gone to the interrogation room to demand an answer, when he had seen the darkness in those once-familiar eyes, he knew that his partner was dead.

He looked up to see K-Unit watching him with guarded expressions, and while he was a bit disappointed at their coldness towards him, he understood it all the same. In this business, you couldn't be too careful when it came to showing emotions. Emotions meant weakness, and weakness lead to manipulation. That's why most government operatives chose to shut them down completely, and had a tendency to end up like Blunt or Jones.

Or Alex.

It was obvious that empathy from K-Unit was not something he could bank on. They had too much loyalty to disobey a direct order. His job was one thing – hell, he'd probably turn in his own badge after this fiasco anyway – but he couldn't ask them to give up theirs'. Not when he knew that Alex honestly didn't deserve it.

Ben cleared his throat and stood up, delving into the last reserves of professionalism that he had. "Mrs. Jones has authorized me to speak the target first in an attempt to prevent unnecessary violence. Whoever finds him will alert the rest of us, at which point I will approach him alone. If he refuses to comply with my requests or becomes hostile-" Ben felt slightly sick at this point, but forced it down, "-then I will give the signal and you take him down."

"Is there anything else?"

Ben looked at Wolf, indifferently noting that the man hadn't changed as much as he thought from their time in training. Always that air of arrogance. "Yeah, there's one thing," he said finally. "He's not the same 'Double O Nothing' you remember from camp. He's fast, he's efficient, and if he remembers anything of those two weeks he trained with K-unit, he won't hesitate to kill you."

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><p><strong><em>Thanks for reading! I'd love to know your thoughtsguesses/general feelings. :)_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for all of your reviews and encouragement! The next chapter will be the last for this story. I hope you enjoy! :)**

**I don't own any recognizable characters. **

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><p>There was an insurmountable silence that hovered over the group as they drove towards the warehouse. Ben didn't know – and could really care less – what the others were thinking when he himself was clinging to his last reserves of endurance. Ever since Alex had been captured two days ago, he had barely gotten an hour of sleep at a time, and even that was only due to the fact that he practically passed out from sheer exhaustion.<p>

Now, he kept his eyes focused on his hands, visually tracing the blue veins that stood out beneath the paleness of his skin. It was the only way he knew to keep himself distracted, though it didn't seem to be working.

They had come up with a strategy before they had left, Ben sharing everything he knew about Alex's way of doing things. Despite the confidence the others had in it, he couldn't help feeling that the teen was such a wild card that there really was no security to be had in this operation. And, deep down, he wondered if he was a wild card as well.

If it came down to it, could he really pull the trigger against his partner? _Stop it, Daniels. This isn't your partner. Your partner is already dead. _He grimaced at the warring thoughts that unmercifully pushed their way in. But it wasn't Alex's fault, was it? Hadn't MI6 turned him into this? _And at what point does an individual become responsible for his own actions? MI6 may have abused him, but they didn't force him to kill eleven people. Alex chose that himself. _His fists clenched, his nails leaving little half-moons in his palm.

The van pulled to a stop, and Ben's head snapped up. Forcefully wiping the emotions away, he brought down a mental wall to hold them back. He prayed it didn't crack. "Alright, com and weapons check," he barked. K-Unit moved to follow his orders even as he checked his own equipment. He received an 'all-ready' nod from Wolf, and he looked over his team one last time. The four men were gazing at him with a calm professionalism, something that he didn't quite feel himself. "Remember," he said, taking a turn to look each of them in the eyes, "do not engage the target until I give the signal or unless you're forced."

Not waiting for a response, he opened the door and slid from the van, taking in the warehouse at a glance. It was two stories and crumbling, obviously having been abandoned for a good five years. The small, paned windows were reduced to shards, each opening like a hungry, endless black hole. If the situation hadn't been so dire, Ben might have actually rolled his eyes at the clicheness of the whole thing.

The five of them circled around the back in silence and entered through a half-attached metal door. Sunlight streamed in through various opening in the walls, revealing the wreckage within. Broken crates, smashed beer bottles, rotting paper, and various other objects that couldn't be identified littered the floor. Leveling his gun in front of him, Ben took a step forward. The crunch beneath his feet seemed loud enough to wake the dead. He shuddered at the thought of who would come back.

With two fingers, he beckoned the others forward. Snake, and then Eagle, stepped swiftly around him, each covering a side while Wolf and Seal took the back and he himself took center-forward. They made their way slowly through the first three rooms, the lights on their helmets throwing harsh shadows against the moldy walls. The only sound was their own breathing, caught and transmitted by their small com devices.

As they entered the fourth room, the three men at the front froze as their lights caught a glimpse of movement just outside the opposite doorway. Ben exchanged glances with Eagle and Snake, and took a cautious step forward. "Alex?" There was no response. "Alex, come out here and let's talk." Another step; glass crunched under his boot.

He stiffened as a familiar voice floated through the doorway. "How about _not_, Ben."

There was a flash of pale skin in the darkness and Ben barely had time to register something rolling towards him before the world exploded in a deafening, white blaze. The force of the flash-bang wasn't enough to knock them over, but Ben found himself stumbling away from the acrid smoke, ears ringing in pain, throat burning. Tears ran down his cheeks as he blinked them repeatedly in an effort to regain his site. He could hear the others stumbling around as well, and hoped that Alex still had enough honor left in him that he wouldn't shoot them while they were so defenseless.

"Report!" Ben finally managed to choke out. He could begin to see figures moving through the heavy haze in the room.

Eagle's voice was the first he heard. "I'm ok."

"Wolf?" Ben struggled to his feet.

"No injuries," the man reported back, "though I'm not sure about Seal. He seems to be unconscious."

Ben began to move over to where Wolf was crouching over his fallen teammate. "Snake?" There was no response. He stopped, a frown flitting over his face. "Snake, report!" Silence. By now, Wolf had paused his attempts to wake Seal, turning his head to look at Ben. "Eagle, do you see him?"

Pause.

"Negative."

Ben swore, and then flinched as another voice entered the conversation through their ear pieces.

"I hope you don't kiss your mother with that mouth, Ben."

Tension flooded the room. "Alex..." he gritted out. Eagle had taken Wolf's spot next to Seal, the latter now standing by Ben, who couldn't meet the man's eyes.

"I see you brought your old unit. They haven't changed much – at least Snake hasn't."

"Alex-"

"You hurt him and I'll murder you, Cub," Wolf growled.

Ben shot him a glare. "Wolf, shut up and let me handle this."

"Yeah, Wolf," Alex mocked, "be a good boy and heel." The man growled and opened his mouth to retort, but was silenced by another look from Ben. There was a chuckle, as if the teen could tell what had just transpired between the two. "You've got them trained pretty well, Ben."

Ben's patience – which had slowly been leaking out of him for the past two days – all but evaporated at that moment. "I'd be careful what I say, Alex; your friends are few and far between at the moment."

"Is that so? And what about you, Ben? Are you my _friend_?" The word was spoken with unmistakable bitterness. "Do you think you can come in here and try to make me feel sorry for what I've done?"

"You're right. It's me your angry at," he said, avoiding the question completely. "It's not K-unit, not Snake, so just let him go and you and I can talk."

"Or, you could meet me, alone, in the back office upstairs before I start doing some real damage to Snake here."

"How do we even know he's still alive?"

There was a short laugh and some rustling, and then Snake's unmistakable, pain-laced voice came on. "Don't worry about me. You get in here and blow away this ba-" the sentence was cut off by a scream of pain.

Ben blanched at the sound. Next to him, Wolf had gone from white to red with rage in a matter of seconds.

"It's funny how heroic a man can be when he still believes in what he's fighting for..." The nonchalant, almost musing tone with which the teen spoke made Ben grit his teeth.

"Don't touch him again," he said, his voice quiet and threatening.

There was silence, and then another scream. Wolf swore. Ben closed his eyes, half in disbelief that this was happening.

"Don't tell me what to do, Ben." The voice on the other end was so cold that it was barely recognizable. "It _really_ rubs me the wrong way."

"Alex, listen to me-"

"Be here in ten minutes or I break the rest of his hand and move on to the other one."

And then the voice was gone.

Ignoring the three pairs of eyes on him, Ben let out a roar of frustration and kicked a discarded beer bottle. Even as it burst into pieces against the wall, he felt the rage drain away, leaving him with nothing more than weariness. Weariness so deep that it ran all the way to his bones. He wanted to be done. With everything. He was just so tired.

Sighing, he finally looked up and saw the eyes - burning with anger and demanding justice – that were resting on him, and he knew had to finish, no matter what happened.

It would all be over soon.

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><p><strong>See that button down below? It really needs some loving. Go ahead, make my day. :)<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**And it's finally done! Sorry for the wait, guys. I have a research project here at school that demands most of my time. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and thanks to all of you who have followed this story to the end!**

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><p>The door to the upstairs office was slightly ajar; there was no noise from inside.<p>

Ben rested his hand on the rusted knob for a moment, closing his eyes with a deep sigh, before pushing the door open. There were three things that he saw instantaneously.

First, that there were no other doors in the room, only tall, Venetian windows that were nothing more than shards of glass. That meant that if Alex was going to escape, it would be through those.

Secondly, Alex himself was hurt. There were bruises all along his face and neck and a smear of blood running from a cut under his eye. That told him that Snake had not gone quietly and that it had been more than a close fight.

Thirdly, that his old teammate was in an immense amount of pain, no matter how stoic he was trying to be about it. The man's hands were tied to the arms of an old, ratty office chair with electrical wire, and there were lengths of it wrapped around his chest and feet as well. He had fight marks to match those of Alex's, and his right hand was swollen and disfigured. But it was the last injury that made Ben hiss through his teeth.

"You stabbed him." It wasn't so much a question as it was an accusation. Something flashed across Alex's face as he followed Ben's gaze to the slowly seeping wound in Snake's side. Ben could have sworn it looked something like guilt, but it was gone quicker than he could identify it.

"Scottish temper," Alex said, shrugging. He picked up a knife from the desk next to the chair and wiped the blood-slicked blade off on the back of the soldier's uniform. "If I remember right, grappling wasn't your strength at camp, Snake. You've gotten better."

"I w-was kicking your arse till you pulled out the knife," the man said with a shuttered breath. "Shouldn't h-have expected a fair fight out of a bloody assassin."

Alex gave an icy smile. "'Fair' is a relative term. Isn't that right, Ben?" He looked at his ex-partner, as if waiting for an answer. Ben remained silent, and Alex continued on, smile slowly slipping from his face. "'Fair' depends on the ones involved in the situation. '_Fair_' is a word used to make those of us who are sacrificed compliant – isn't that right, _Ben_," he hissed.

"You know I never supported what they did to you," Ben replied coolly. "Why do you think I left the SAS?"

"Because no one says 'no' to MI6."

Ben's eyes glinted. "MI6 wanted me for one job, Alex. I _chose_ to stay because I knew there wasn't one person there that gave a hell about what happened to you! I was trying to protect you – I've _always_ tried to protect you! You're just too selfish to ever have paid attention."

There was a deafening silence after that, only pierced by Snake's ragged breathing. Neither of them dropped their gaze. "I don't know what you want from me, Ben," Alex said finally, tossing the knife back on the table. "If you thought you could come in here and try to make me feel guilty, you were wrong. I've made my choice."

"Alex-"

Alex growled and whipped a gun – Snake's gun – out from behind his back. In one fluid motion, he had moved to the side of Snake and now had the barrel shoved against the man's temple. "We both know that there are only two ways that this is going to end, Ben. I will _not_ go back to rot in a cell for the rest of my life!"

Ben's jaw clenched. _So this was how it was going to be_. "I know," he said quietly. And then he did something that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Raising his hand, he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes inadvertently flicking over Alex's shoulder to the building across from them before returning to the teen's. Something sparked in those dark eyes. Acceptance? Finality?

Alex never looked away. There was a split second when the air was unnaturally still. Alex opened his mouth to speak, the words only making it halfway out before silenced by a single gunshot.

Ben felt frozen, and the scene before him occurred almost as if from a muffled distance as Alex – ex-partner, teenager, broken spy – collapsed to the ground. This time, the sniper hadn't missed.

The door behind him burst open, and at the edge of his vision he saw Wolf and Eagle shove past him to get to Snake. But he couldn't take his eyes off the still form on the floor – nor could he hear anything else but those last whispered words.

_Thank you_. He had said _thank you_.

He found himself moving forward in mechanical movements. He was standing next to the body, then on his knees, not even aware of the blood soaking into his pants. The swirl of emotions he had been feeling came to halt as a wave of numbness cascaded over him. He picked up the limp, white wrist and checked for a pulse, even though he knew that Seal's shot hadn't missed.

As he laid Alex's arm back the ground, he became aware of a soft buzzing coming from the teen's pocket. He pulled out the cellphone just as the buzzing stopped, the figures on the changing from 6 to 7 missed calls with a blink.

Flipping open the phone, he scanned the call log. One dialed out, seven more dialed back in – all the same number. His contact? They wouldn't be that stupid, though; they would never call more than once. He nearly dropped it as the phone began to buzz again and, without even so much as a glance at the number, he pushed the 'send' button and lifted it to his ear.

"You're a real bastard, you know that?" the voice on the other end assaulted him before he could even say anything. "You don't call someone up you haven't spoken to in years and say 'Oi, Tom, I'm gonna get shot so come arrange my funeral, yeah?' It's not funny, Alex. Not after everything we've been through!" The caller paused and took a breath, and when he spoke again, the anger was gone. Now there was only panic. "Alex? You better be bloody joking about the funeral thing, mate... Alex? Alex!"

The phone slipped from Ben's hand as he stared on in horror. _No..._ He scrambled for the gun that was still gripped in Alex's hand, yanking out the clip and emptying the chamber – only to find them both empty.

And it all made sense.

The room with a window at his back...the flicker of guilt at Snake's injury... Ben ran a hand through his hair, gripping it at its roots. Alex had intentionally provoked him; hadn't made any demands... He had moved to the side of Snake, giving the sniper a clear shot...

A cry of rage escaped him, and suddenly he was pounding on the teen's chest. "You coward! You selfish bastard! How could you-" he shrugged off the hand that appeared on his shoulder. "How could you do this to me?" Someone was pulling him away now, and he fought only as he was dragged to his feet.

"Daniels. Daniels!" Someone was shaking him. "FOX!" Ben stilled, slowly becoming aware of the Wolf's hardened eyes peering into his. "It's done," the man said quietly.

Ben glared at him a moment before shaking him off. He stalked out the door and down the stairs, momentarily blinded by the afternoon sun as he exited the warehouse. By the time his eyes adjusted, several black government vehicles were pulling up. He kept walking even as Mrs. Jones stepped out the first car.

"Agent Daniels-" She stopped when she saw the look on his face, eying him warily as he approached. Everyone tensed as he reached into his pocket, but Ben only drew out his badge – his gun was still with Eagle in the warehouse – and handed it to her. "Ben..." she began.

"I'm done." He met her eyes momentarily, and she finally gave a curt nod. "I'll be in tomorrow to give my statement."

Without waiting for a response, he brushed past her. And he didn't look back.

* * *

><p><em>10 years later...<em>

It was raining by the time the man got to the cemetery. Pulling his long trench coat closer around his neck, he grabbed the brown paper bag off the seat next to him and stepped into the downpour.

He followed a small gravel pathway for ten minutes before veering off into the grass. There, in the little visited back corner, stood four plain gravestones. The man plopped down next to the one furthest to the right, ignoring the water and mud that seeped into his suitpants.

He sat there for a minute, face turned up towards the sky, eyes closed as the rain pelted his face and slicked his dark hair to his forehead. Finally, with a sigh, he reached for the sodden brown bag and pulled out a couple of beer bottles.

"Has it really been ten years?" He asked, twisting off the cap of one and taking a long swig. "I swear this day comes sooner and sooner every year." He snorted. "I suppose you would tell me that I'm just getting old."

Opening the other bottle he slowly poured the beer into the grass in front of the grave. "Drink up, old friend; you've been old enough for quite a while." He followed this up with a toast from his own bottle, and gulped it back, arms then dropping heavily on his knees, bottle dangling listlessly between his legs.

The man stayed another five minutes, though said nothing. When he finally pulled himself from the ground and collected the bottles and bag, he paused to take one final look at the granite stone in front of him. Then, with a tip of the head and a quiet "see you next year, mate," he headed home.

Later that night, as he kissed his youngest goodnight, he was surprised when the usually quiet six-year-old spoke up. "Daddy, why were you so sad when you got home today?" The man straightened up, not sure how to answer. "Mommy said it's because you were visiting a friend," the boy continued, staring up at him with dark eyes that could only have come from his father.

The man gave a small smile and finished pulling the covers up to the boys' chin. "Mommy's right."

"Is your friend sick? Is that why you're sad?"

"No, honey, Daddy's just sad because he doesn't see his friend very often."

"Why not?"

The man looked away, searching for the right answer. "Because he lives far away," he said finally, "and only comes around once a year." The man picked up a stuffed dinosaur from the floor and tucked it under the boy's arm. Then, kissing the boy gently on the forehead, he got up and turned off the lights.

"Daddy?" The man turned around, hand on the doorknob. "Can I meet him, your friend?"

The small smile returned to man's face. "Someday when you're older I'll take you, Alex, I promise."

* * *

><p><strong>The End. <strong>


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